


Fix Me

by mullingar



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Amnesia, Depression, Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mullingar/pseuds/mullingar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry applies for a job at one of the top law firms in the world.  He got the job.  The work was just not exactly what he signed up for.  He really did not need a law degree just to be Louis Tomlinson's fuck toy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damsels

This is it, Harry. You're finally getting the job of your dreams. I can't even believe the top law firm in the country is interested in me. Do you know how hard it is to be asked for a personal interview? Out of hundreds of top-notch applicants, they are only accepting twenty for the interview. Twenty. How did I even get this close as to being considered? I'm not even part of the upper five percent of this batch of applicants. My professor must have written a damn exceptional letter of recommendation. Thank you, Mr. Higgins.

I look at the mirror one last time and examine my messy hair. Was it really a great idea to let Gemma drive me to work? It's not that she isn't a trustworthy driver, which she most definitely is. She just doesn't have the sense of proper timing. Look at me, Im already far beyond legal and I still need my big sister to drive me to school. I mean work. My phone rings and I grab it from my inside pocket.

"Harry Styles," I answer in a calm manner, trying to hide the fact of how nervous I am. My voice sounded deeper than usual. Well, puberty eventually has to take its toll on me.

"This is Sarah from Tomlinson Horan. We'd like to inform you that we're giving you twenty more minutes to show up or we're afraid we'll have to cancel the interview completely."

"But my interview's still in two hours." I hear her snicker over the phone.

"No! I'm not trying to make an excuse or something. I was really told the interview was at ten." I swear to everything I own the interview was scheduled at ten. I look for my brown journal and spot it under a growing pile of clothes and flip it to today's date. No. Fucking. Way. "I'll be there,"

I call Gemma and tell her what happened. To my dismay, it would take her at least thirty minutes to get here. I grab the key of my mom's old truck and thankfully, the truck roared to life at the first try. It all seemed like a distant memory. Ever since my accident four years ago, I've always avoided sitting at the driver's seat. There were only two times when I allowed myself to face the dangers of driving. One was when my mom fainted and I had to bring her to the hospital. The other was when my Irish friend, Niall, forgot his reading glasses at my place. I mean mom's place. Yes, I'm in my late twenties and I still live with my mom. No big deal.

I race my way in and out of the path of the other vehicles and it is by a second too late do I realize that a white Audi was heading my direction.

Flashes of the accident that triggered my phobia of driving enter my mind. Compared to that, this looked like a tiny scratch. That was not what it was. I spot the wreckage of the white Audi just as its owner gets down. While the scratch on mom's truck blended with its poor condition, the damage on the Audi was like an elephant in a small room, very hard to miss.

The owner looked upset. He wore a suit considerably more expensive than that of my own, and he wore a tiny Rolex on his wrist. He starts laughing to himself, as though making a mockery out of our situation. It takes me a few more seconds before I finally go down the truck.

"Sorry, I didn't really see you." he puts his hands at the back of his head. By the looks of it, he was either going to run or faint. You'd think I'd be the less stable one considering I was the one who caused the scratch on this Audi. Good one, Styles. Just a few months out of law school and you're out causing more debts.

"It's my fault, I was in a hurry, I didn't see you too." I try to calm him down. "Tell you what, we split damage cost insurance doesn't cover at 50-50?" He laughs. Here I am, telling him I'm willing to spend my first paycheck on the repair of this automobile and he just laughs at me? How dare he!

"No, it's really not the money I'm worried about." he grins. What is this man's deal?

"What are you worried about, then?"

"See, I got a really mad, crazy boss and I'm running late to a billion dollar meeting." He laughs some more. Seriously, what is this guy's deal? Is he high or something?

"Do you want me to drive you there?"

"Okay."

He tells me the directions as I drive and it is only when we reach the building do I realize that he worked for the same firm I've always wanted to work for. Oh shoot! I totally forgot about the interview. As we walked to the elevator, I told him about it and how I mistakenly wrote the wrong time on my journal. I try to tell him I'd pay him for the damage, but he quickly dismisses the issue as soon as I mentioned Greg Horan, one of the firm's managing partners, and how I knew his brother from law school. Oh how people bow down to titles so easily.

I get off the fifth floor and he continues to what seems to be the nineteenth. Judging from his behaviour, he must be a senior partner who aspired to become more. From the way he talked about Greg, it wasn't him he called mad and crazy. The Tomlinson guy must be the one getting on his nerves.

"Mr. Styles?" a pretty blonde calls me to her desk. "Mr. Tomlinson would see you now." Time to see just how mad and crazy my new boss is.

I take one more look at my shoes before I finally enter the room. It was a bit smaller than I expected. The room, not my shoes. My shoes are rather big. I spot Mr. Tomlinson by the bookshelves. He wore a dark maroon shirt and he had black shoes to be envied by the rest of mankind. He is currently on his phone, in the middle of a heated argument in french.

I admire the painting on the wall. It was nothing like any other work of art I had ever laid my eyes on. It compelled me to look at it a closer angle.

"I did it myself," I hear him grin. I didn't even see him walk towards me.

"That's pretty sick, Mr. Tomlinson." I giggle like an infatuated teenage girl. His eyes are like twin oceans as deep as depth can be. How can this man be the managing partner of this firm? He must be just a few year older than I am. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, my schedule got mixed up and I had a small accident on the way here."

"It's fine," he pats my shoulder. His finger tips feel cold as they brushed softly against my neck. He offers me tea, but I tell him I don't like tea. He looked rather offended.

"Should we start the interview?" he breaks the silence.

"Certainly,"

"What made you want to become a lawyer?" A pretty cliché question, if you ask me.

"Well, it was kind of predestined," I look at his tie. "I guess."

"I used to be such a reckless youth, and one time, I got involved in a gang war and some random lawyer helped me." Mr. Tomlinson gets off his chair. "My mother's dying wish was for me to become a lawyer because it's always been a dream of hers." he towers over me and leans closer. "Many people want this job, each for different reasons, and you tell me you have to guess why you do?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "I can deal with punctuality issues, but I can't forgive indifference." He goes back to his chair. "Close the door when you leave,"

I stand and leave his office, banging the door as I go.


	2. Young Blood

I turn off the faucet and look at the mirror. I think of what just happened and shame begins to engulf my entire being. What have I just done? I blew it. I fucking blew it. I don't know who I was back there. It was as though I had been too distracted to think straight.

I look at my phone and it shows three texts from Gemma. I call her and tell her all that's happened. To my surprise, she takes my side on this one. "He seems like an upright over-sensitive twat." she comments. I felt a little bad. It's not as though he got mad for no reason. "He kinda has a point," I mutter. The call got cut and I just stare at the mirror for another minute.

"Someone's a little vain." a beautiful man with black hair comments as he gets out of the left cubicle. I didn't even notice I had company.

"Sorry, man."

"You must be the new guy he's with, he does have a thing for tall men with green eyes." he chuckles. His breath smells of alcohol. I never thought I'd come across people like him at this firm. "I'm Zayn Malik, his best friend."

"I'm Harry Styles," I respond awkwardly, as though it were the first day of kindergarten. "I'm afraid you got me mistaken for someone else though,"

"Nah," he goes out of the urinals. "I doubt it."

I follow him out and stop outside Mr. Tomlinson's door. Should I apologize and beg for another chance? On the most important day of my career, I've somehow managed to almost kill someone, upset the firm's managing partner, and be mistaken for some guy's secret lover. What a day. Just as I thought things could not get worse, I opened the door.

Mr. Tomlinson lay on the floor half-naked. He had bruises all over his body and scars at his shoulders. The guy who owned the Audi was in the middle of melting candle wax to his collar bones.

What did I just walk in to?


End file.
